#they also love the local weatherman but he retired

[nashvillehotchicken]

my shepskies have started begging for "storytime" everyday. its where they lay around my moms desk chair with their soft toys quietly listening to the nosleep podcast

[emeralds-city]

oh hulu do I have a pilot for you! I'm thinking Ty Burrell for the lead because he has that washed up weatherman look about him- very Man of the Year twenty years ago- he's perfect! Walt Weathers is a recently re-married tightass just trying to keep a grip on life. Weather manipulation has been a power long possessed by few born from a special family and "Forecasting" is the family business. walt is in the process of retiring and passing the baton to his son, an uninterested millennial who's being forced to give up his passion for music. He'd definitely have a climate activist gen z daughter who's on a new food kick every week. I would also love if there was like a side beef with the other local weatherman who just cant seem to understand why Walt's forecasts are always so accurate played by Robert Sean Leonard. SOMEBODY WALK WITH ME!

when I was a kid I thought the weather guy on TV controlled the weather and he was just telling us what he was gonna do for the next few days. when he said "30% chance of rain Thursday" I thought he was just guessing how likely it was he'd wake up in a rain mood that morning

[letsprayitwritesitself]

groundhog dave part 2 - day one

At 6am sharp Davey was jolted awake from his suspiciously pleasant sleep. His motel bed was almost too cosy, about ten feet high with a duvet that seemed intent on smothering him. He must have been more tired than he thought.

The clock radio started blaring the local forecast to keep him company as he forced himself out of bed, trying to motivate himself with the idea that if a job was worth doing it was worth doing well and blah blah blah.

That’s right woodchuck chuckers, it’s Groundhog Day!

He scowled at the radio over his shoulder as he shuffled into the bathroom, thinking that he maybe had two or three years left of this before February 2nd was ruined for him forever. He’d be eighty, in his retirement home, staring out the window and muttering to himself: that’s right woodchuck chuckers, that’s right woodchuck chuckers...

Could he do this again? He remembered thinking a year ago that three Groundhog Days had been a bit much. Now four? What if the execs just expected him to, because he’d never said no? He could walk into the studio tomorrow, look his boss in the face and say “No more.”

Could he?

He was a good producer. He knew it. He could do way better than this.

But if that was true then why did they keep assigning it to him?

This internal struggle didn’t make him any more excited to deal with the day’s festivities so he walked to the square in a daze, squinting through the brisk sunlight at the millions of people who seemed intent on wishing every stranger they passed a happy Groundhog Day.

Jack and Crutchie had beat him there and were watching the celebrations with amusement - Davey would tell it was their first time. He greeted them with a grimace as a particularly loud accordion assaulted his ears.

‘Morning sunshine!’ Jack grinned at him, shuffling from foot to foot to try and keep warm. His cheeks were red from the cold and it struck Davey for a moment (just a moment, mind) as adorable. He got over that fast. 

‘Hey, guys, we ready for this thing?’

‘We’re all good to go, we’ve checked the link with the studio in Philly, due to start in about five.’ Crutchie had the knack of keeping his own optimism while being sympathetic to Davey’s lack thereof, and he’d always appreciate that about working with him. ‘Then we’re back on the road and home by eleven, sound good?’

‘Sounds great, thanks Crutchie. Jack, you ready?’

‘Born ready. Can’t believe how eager you guys are to blow this place. Don’t you love being out of the city just a little?’

Davey pulled a face.

‘That’s a no, then... no explanation? Or do you just like being controversial?’ Jack smiled as he said this, somewhere between genuinely curious and deliberately provocative. 

‘Alright. My whole life is in the city. I come here, it’s full of strangers, it’s too quiet at night, and there’s a million reminders that I’m still at the lowest point in my career. Meanwhile my superiors are laughing at me in Philly.’

Jack raised his eyebrows. Davey hadn’t meant to say that much. He cleared his throat. 

‘How about you - why are  you so happy to be here?’

‘It’s just nice to see all these people celebrating for next to no reason, y’know? Getting together with their neighbours, dancing in the streets. Heck, I don’t know what my neighbours are even called back home. Don’t you think it’s sweet?’

‘I think... If this is all that these people want, and that’s what makes them happy, then I’m happy for them. But also, no thanks.’ Davey shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced up at the bandstand, where the festivities were starting. Crutchie hoisted his camera up onto his shoulder and addressed Jack. 

‘Alright, Jack, we’re on in five... four... three... two...’ Jack adopted that grin again and lifted his mic up.

‘Once a year the eyes of the nation turn to this tiny hamlet in western Pennsylvania to watch a master at work. The master? Punxsutawney Phil, the world’s most famous weatherman - the groundhog! Who, as legend has it, can predict the coming of an early spring! Which means the question we’re all asking ourselves today is: does Phil feel lucky?’ Davey shot Jack a tight-lipped smile and a thumbs up, and Jack nodded in return before turning around.

Even Davey had to smirk as the emcee pulled Punxsutawney Phil out of his trapdoor. The little guy had a bewildered, wide-eyed look on his squished face, kind of like he’d been forced out of bed for this bullshit tradition, and this made Davey feel like they were on the same level. Jack caught him smiling when he turned around to exclaim ‘He’s so cute!’ and he quickly rearranged his features into an expression of distant supervision. 

‘This February 2nd, at 7:20 and thirty seconds,’ the emcee started reading from a theatrical scroll, ‘Punxsutawney Phil, the seer of seers, prognosticator of prognosticator, emerged reluctantly, but alertly...’ Jack turned round again to point at Davey, prompting another smirk. ‘... in Punxsutawney PA, and stated in groundhog-ese, “I definitely see a shadow.” Sorry folks, six more weeks of winter!’

Crutchie cast the camera over the disappointed crowd, who were voicing their upset at what the talking beaver had told them.

‘You ready for your sign off, Jack?’ Davey was really trying to not join in with the disappointment, the idea that this trip would have been any less of a waste of time if the groundhog had delivered good news. Jack nodded and lifted the mic again while Crutchie got into position.

‘Three... two...’

‘Well, there you have it folks! Not the outcome the people of Punx were hoping for but you, uh, you can’t argue with science! From Punxsutawney PA I’ve been Jack Kelly, back to you in the studio!’

‘Awesome, amazing, we’re done here.’ A sudden gust of icy wind chilled them and a low murmur of awe spread through the crowd. Snow started to fall. Jack, typically, let out a laugh and held his hands up to catch some.

‘It’s snowing!’

Davey bit back the impulse to say no shit, Sherlock, knowing it would only make him sound (and feel) like an asshole.

‘I didn’t think we were expecting snow?’

‘We weren’t, really, not yet anyway! Thought we’d be home by the time it started.’

‘We should get a move on, then, I don’t want it disrupting any of our travel.’

‘Can we stop for coffee? And breakfast?’

‘We can pause for coffee and breakfast.’

//

It was Jack’s damn caramel macchiato that did it. If he’d been normal and ordered a black coffee like Davey, or even tea like Crutchie, they would have been out of that damn coffee shop easily three or four minutes faster, and might have just missed this truck blocking the only tunnel out of Punx. The snow was falling heavily now, almost obscuring the road ahead, but Davey knew the route, and was keen enough to escape that place that he would have driven through a tornado.

‘Sucks that Phil couldn’t have told us about this, huh?’ Jack leaned forward from the back seat. Davey glared at him.

‘You’re literally a forecaster, Jack.’

‘It’s my day off! God, the one day I let a groundhog do my job, and this happens!’ He didn’t look particularly sorry.

‘Crutchie, can you flag down that cop and see what’s going on?’

Crutchie rolled down the window just enough to call out to the officer, who came over and spoke through the six inch gap. Davey wanted to talk but had a feeling his bad mood would get the better of him, so let Crutchie.

‘Morning officer, could you help us out a little?’

‘’Fraid not, fellas, we’re closing the road. There’s a blizzard.’

It was getting harder for Davey to bite his tongue.

‘What time we looking at re-opening it?’ Crutchie continued on his behalf. ‘We’re all due back in Philly and I think my producer’s gonna have a nervous breakdown if he doesn’t see a skyscraper in the next three hours.’

‘Hard to say, kids. Could be later today, could be a week. All depends on what the storm feels like doing!’

‘And there’s no way you could just... let us through?’ Davey leaned across Crutchie’s seat. As he said it, he knew it was a dumb question, but he had to ask.

‘Absolutely not. Roads are getting icy as hell and visibility is near zero. Nope, I cannot in good conscience let you continue. Best thing to do is turn around and get yourself a nice bowl of soup at Lily’s. Hunker down. It’s gonna be a cold one.’ He tapped the roof of the van good-naturedly and walked away to deliver the news around. There was a moment of heavy silence in the van before Jack spoke.

‘Well, look on the -’

‘Please. Please don’t tell me to look on the bright side.’

Jack stared at him for a moment before retreating back. ‘I wasn’t. I was going to say... Look at the silver lining!’ Crutchie snickered unhelpfully from the passenger seat. Davey leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

//

‘So now will you come hang out with us, see what Punx has to offer?’

They sat in the diner, watching the snow fall in sheets outside. Jack and Davey nursed cups of coffee in a window booth while Crutchie sat up at the counter, engaging the fry cook in wholesome banter. Davey had just spoken to the network, who had told the three of them to stay safe and take as long as they need - and hadn’t, unfortunately, offered to send a copter or a private jet to rescue them. He didn’t like the feeling of being a stick in the mud, but it was hard to force a positive attitude when he felt like the universe was conspiring against him.

‘I’ve seen what Punx has to offer. So have you. This is it.’

‘Jeez, Davey! What have I got to do to get you to crack a smile?’

‘I’m sorry.’

Jack seemed a little taken aback at the apology.

‘What for?’

‘I know I’m being an asshole. I just really, really hate this place.’

‘How about a drink?’ Jack raised his eyebrows, ready to be a little sympathetic now he knew the unpleasantness wasn’t just Davey’s personality.

‘How about nine or ten drinks?’

‘You’re on.’